


That Winning Smile

by hit_the_books



Series: Blood and Gold [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternative Werewolf Lore, Angst, F/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeur Dean, Voyeur Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This part takes place between season 9 episodes “Thinman” and “Blade Runners”.</p><p>You're an alchemist, perhaps one of the most gifted of this age. Sam and Dean have entrusted their hearts to you, as you have your own to them, and now you're on the road together: to do the impossible.</p><p>But will you crash and burn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guilty

The sun is high in the sky as you pull into a gas station, one last time before you’ll reach your home town. You’ve been on the road with Sam and Dean for just over three hours now, having left four dead bodies behind in Washington. The guys are in the store, buying snacks and paying for the gas, and you can see that Dean is on his cell. As you watch Dean’s lips, you recognise one word.

A name.

Karen.

‘Of course he would call Karen,’ you think to yourself as you stretch out on the backseat of the Impala. You finger the necklace you always wear. Its silver chain was always cold against your skin and its charge, nestled in silver at the end, was always a glowing orange. You watch Dean hang up, the call seeming only long enough for a voicemail and you grind your teeth, biting back the anxiety that threatens to flood you as one of your last times with Karen plays out in your head.

Karen. Screaming. Her skin melting. The cruel determination you felt, with your soul almost gone. For a moment you feel like no one is out there, that no one is going to return to the Impala, that you’re going to be swallowed up by the horrors that are replaying in your mind’s eye. Your breathing is fast and you can feel perspiration on your forehead. The Impala’s leather seats seem distant, and the wooden floorboards of the cabin close as you see Karen’s screaming face again and again-

“Hey, Y/N!” Shouts Sam, climbing into the Impala, next to you. His presence seems far away, coming to you from another time and place. You feel his hands gripping your shoulders, but your breathing is so rapid now that-

Blackness.

Opening your eyes, you find that your head is in Sam’s lap and the Impala is on the road again. You struggle to breathe right. You have no idea how long you were out. Sam is looking out the window at the passing scenery, unaware that you’ve regained consciousness. What little sky you can see, from your position on the back seat, is blue. You focus on the sky, focus on it and calm your breathing. Calm yourself.

Sam shifts and looks down at you in his lap. “How are you feeling?” His voice is gentle, filled with concern.

“Better, thanks,” you reply with a croak, realising that your mouth and throat are dry.

“I think you had an anxiety attack, by the way,” Sam said, instinctively passing you a bottle of water and helping you to sit up.

Dean looks at you through the rearview mirror. “Hey,” Dean says warmly, his eyes smiling.

You take a sip of water, now sat up. “Hey,” you reply.

“Did us leaving you alone in the car-” starts Sam.

“No, no, no… it’s coming home and… and… her.” You can’t say Karen’s name, not yet.

Sam and Dean seem to know who you mean as they share a knowing look between them. Sam puts an arm around you and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head.

“You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

*

It’s mid afternoon by the time Dean manages to park the Impala beside the curb outside your grandfather’s old shop and what is still technically your home. A few of the old timers walking around give the three of you a look as you all step out of the car, you with your chest cradled under your arm. You ignore them as you lead the guys around the back to the delivery entrance and unlock it, before swiftly disabling the alarm system.

The air inside is a little musty, but not too bad. You switch on lights as you walk past the stock room’s shelves, leaving your chest on a workbench before walking through the kitchen and on to the store proper. You pay no heed to Sam and Dean behind you, as they settle into the study and kitchen. In the store you open the internalised mailbox and pull out the wodge of mail that’s accumulated over the past month or so.

Spinach and books waft towards your nostrils and you know Sam is standing right behind you as you stand beside the counter and shift through the mail. There’s a mess of letters almost all junk. Much of it still addressed to your deceased grandfather. But you hide how you feel as you separate the mail into junk and probably not junk. Picking up a silver letter opener, you start to shift through the not junk, finding bills mainly, but you know they’re all already paid for: your gold was useful for at least one thing.

You get to the bottom of the not junk pile and find a postcard. The front picture is a nightscape, all bright lights and haze, from a place you don’t recognise, you turn it over and notice the postmark, which suggests the card has come all the way from Texas a few weeks ago. There’s no descriptor for the image. The postcard is addressed to you, but the message beside the address is short and you don’t recognise the handwriting:

**I hope that you know that I’m sorry x**

“Who’s that from?” Sam suddenly asks, making you jump.

You hand the postcard over to him. “I don’t know. I don’t recognise the handwriting.”

Sam studies the postcard closely. “Hmm, looks like view from scenic drive, over between El Paso and Juarez.”

“You’ve been there?”

Looking at Sam, you notice a blush form on his cheeks. You know what that means and you start chuckling, as you move behind the counter and start pulling out some of the store’s stock that you want to use to replenish your chest’s supplie.

You feel Sam watching you as you shift about the shelves there, sniffing at jars, boxes and bottles, looking for alchemical ingredients that are still usable. Standing up, your hands filled with a mixture of components in their containers, you almost think you can see your grandfather, standing by one of the shuttered windows. And then you blink and he’s gone.


	2. Time And Memories

Sam turns slightly as Dean walks up to him, while he leans against the desk in Y/N’s study. There’s a book in Sam’s hands, the Key of Solomon, and he fights feelings of déjà vu as he stares at its pages in this setting once more.

“There is nothing, I repeat, nothing edible in that refrigerator, so I’m gonna head out to the store. Want anything?” Dean asks, arms across his chest.

Sam puts the book down and puts a hand through his hair, pulling it away from his eyes. “I’m not sure what I can eat right now,” Sam answered, thinking back to Y/N passing out in front of him. He was still feeling quite raw from that.

“I’ll get you something,” Dean looks at his brother, Dean’s expression a mixture of guilt and concern.

“Uh, thanks.”

Dean nods and heads towards the back door. Sam listens to it open and close. Getting up from his perch in the study, Sam, goes looking for Y/N. As he walks through the hallway, Sam looks up at the walls, properly, for the first time. He feels his heart miss a beat as he sees the old framed photos that line the hallway’s walls. Pictures of Y/N with her family and an old man that must have been her grandfather.

She’s smiling, a smile so similar to the ones she does with him, but the Y/N in these photos has clearly not worried long into the night. Not felt her soul leached from her body. Never died or seen her grandfather devoured by a werewolf. And even though he can’t do anything to wind back the clock, Sam wishes for a brief moment that he could just put Y/N completely back the way she use to be, even though it would mean that she would never have met him or Dean. Never have loved him.

‘Because at least she would have been safe, would have been happy,’ Sam thinks to himself as he reaches the store and sees Y/N sifting through old mail.

*

“So, buzzcut dude…” Sam pondered out loud as he flipped through an old shoebox that was filled with an assortment of photos, movie stubs, pressed flowers and other things young women were prone to collecting. Sam was sat on Y/N’s bedroom floor, his legs crossed with the shoebox balanced on top.

Y/N was sat on her bed, looking through the contents of an old laptop. Sam had asked back in Washington if she had a Facebook account she could just check, but she’d said she didn’t, because she wasn’t in touch with many people from before she started training. Karen was the exception.

“Current theory: dunno,” Y/N replied. “But… there’s hardly anything left on this laptop. Like everything’s been deleted.”

Putting the box down, Sam knelt beside the bed and motioned for Y/N to hand the laptop over. “Whatever was on there, is still probably there…”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember anything… pertinent to all of this,” Y/N said, exasperation in her voice.

“Hey, it’s… things can be tough when you get your soul back.”

“I suppose you’d know more than anyone.”

“Yeah, I suppose I would.” Sam looked up at Y/N and gave her his best goofy smile.

Smiling back, Y/N drew her arms around herself, and hugged herself tight. “I don’t remember what it was like when my grandfather died, y’know. Like, I know what happened, but the actual memory is all a bit hazy.

“I’ve got Karen there and my grandfather’s mutilated corpse,” Y/N gave a bitter laugh, “but I can’t remember the actual werewolf.”

Reaching a hand out to Y/N, Sam settled it on her left knee and squeezed it. He turned his attention back to the laptop and found that the disk analyzer he’d run showed a lot of it hadn’t been compressed, but could be. That meant there was loads of deleted material on the hard drive. Sam pulled his wallet out of his pocket and from that extracted a USB stick. Standing up, he moved the laptop to the dresser, plugged in its power and pushed the USB drive into a free slot on the laptop.

He heard Y/N shift off of the bed. She bent over the dresser beside him, watching as he started the recovery program running from the USB stick. He felt the heat radiating from Y/N’s body and he tilted his head slightly, looking at the curve Y/N’s back and the way her ass was stuck out as she leaned with her arms on the dresser.

Sam reached a hand out and brushed his hand down the curve of Y/N’s back, cupping her ass as he reached it. He felt Y/N shiver under his touch. He began kneading Y/N’s ass, gently, then slipping his fingers low and rubbing her folds through her combats.

Stepping away from the dresser, but keeping his hand in place, Sam stood behind Y/N and continued to rub her through her clothes and for a few minutes that’s all they did, but then Y/N began to grind back onto Sam’s hand and he removed it. Sam placed his right hand on Y/N’s right hip and with his left he reached down and under Y/N, to fondle her left breast. Pulling Y/N close to him, his eyes rolled into his head slightly as Y/N bucked backwards to him, seeking friction.

“Y/N…” Sam moaned, feeling his cock starting to strain against his jeans. His breathing was ragged.

“Sam…” Y/N panted and then pulled herself up and turned to face him. Sam pushed his left hand under Y/N’s tops and pulled down her bra, teasing her nipple, while pulling her close with his right hand, playfully gripping her ass hard and lowering his lips on to hers - frantic, hungry.

He eased his tongue into Y/N’s mouth and gently caressed her tongue with his. But Sam needed more. He moved his left hand away from Y/N’s breast and trailed it down her stomach, before slipping it down inside her combats and panties. Quickly, Sam found Y/N’s slit and as he slipped his middle finger inside, he couldn’t get over how wet Y/N already was.

Sam pulled away from their kisses. “Do,” he stroked her walls, “want,” he added a second finger, “me,” he stroked with both, “inside,” he felt her clench around his hand, “of,” he stroked again, “you?”

“Yes,” Y/N groaned.

Sam freed his hand and the pair of them shed their boots and clothes quickly. He was about to push Y/N down on the bed, when instead she climbed on top of it instead, going on to all fours and raising her hips up into the air. Touching himself for a moment, slicking pre-cum down his shaft, Sam marvelled at the sight in front of him, before climbing on to the bed and grasping Y/N’s hips between his hands.

Carefully, Sam slid himself inside Y/N and found a pleasing tightness from the position they were starting in. Kissing Y/N’s lower back for a moment, Sam brought himself up and began to thrust, gently at first, his cock easily slipping back and forth as Y/N’s juices ran over it.

“Mmnnngggh,” Y/N cried into a pillow, pushing her hips towards Sam. Sam gasped as he felt Y/N orgasm, her body rocking around him. He smiled and bent forward, reaching a hand around and under Y/N, finding her clit.

Pumping into Y/N, slowly increasing his speed, Sam teased Y/N’s clit as his dick found just the right spot and began to ride her harder. His breathing was deep and fast has hips bucked and he his his fingers coordinated with his thrusts. Y/N threw a look back at him, a plea for him to go faster.

Sam took his hand away from Y/N’s clit and held on tight to both of her hips. He sped up, pulling Y/N down on him as he thrust into her. He could feel his orgasm building and for a moment he looked down at the point where he and Y/N met, seeing his dick slide in and out of her and he could see that she was creaming all over him and that, that was enough.

“Mmmnnnggghhh!” Cried Y/N into the pillows once more, her walls clenching and her body shuddering.

And it was enough. “Annnnnnnnnnnnnnngggghhhhhhh!” Sam cried out. He felt himself spill into Y/N, as he kept thrusting, filling her up, his thrusts slowly winding down as he felt himself finish..

Muffled slightly by the pillows, her ass still up in the air, Y/N groaned. “Love you, Sam,” as he came to a rest behind her.

Sam bent down and kissed the base of Y/N’s spine. “Love you, Y/N.”


	3. Are You Okay?

Dean had been staring at the same display of tortilla chips for about five minutes now. His thoughts had wandered elsewhere, but he was now coming back into himself enough to realise that the clerk working at the front was probably getting a little anxious, because he had not moved in five minutes. Sighing, Dean picked up a bag of chips and added it to his basket. He moved down the aisle, to the power bars, swiping a few of them into the basket before heading over to the a fruit display and picking up some apples and bananas for Sam. Then he went and got a carton of milk and some tea, thinking of Y/N, and before he knew where his feet were taking him, he was stood in front of a chiller cabinet, looking at beers.

“Dean?” Asked a woman’s voice from behind.

Dean turned and found Karen standing in front of him. She looked good, considering the state they’d left her in before driving off. And she was smiling at Dean, like she had done before the cabin. Dean returned the smile and before he knew what was happening, Karen had pulled him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you too,” Dean said, gently patting Karen’s back. “Did you get my message?”

“Yes, I was just stopping here on the way to Y/N’s.”

“Sam and Y/N are back there now.”

Karen slid away from the hug and gave Dean a wry look. “You done something different with your hair?”

Self-consciously, Dean’s right hand shot up to touch his head. Then Dean noticed Karen’s eyes drift to look at the inside of his right arm.

“What’s that?” Karen asked.

Dean dropped his hand and awkwardly balanced the basket as he pulled his shirt sleeve down to cover the Mark of Cain. A part of him felt embarrassed to have Karen stare at it.

“It’s uh, nothing,” he replied pathetically.

“Right, well… is, Y’N, y’know…”

Licking his lips, Dean thought about how best to answer. “She’s come a long way. Look, I’ll pay for this and then-”

“You drop that back at Y/N’s and we can go grab a drink,” Karen interjected, winking at Dean.

*

Stepping through the back door, Dean was surprised at how silent the house was. He walked through to the kitchen and put away what he’d bought, and thought things were still too quiet, until he heard bed springs move upstairs and then he knew.

A tiny pang of jealousy swept through him, but he wasn’t going to begrudge Sam making a move while the two of them were alone. Dean sighed and headed back out, towards the bar that Karen had told him to meet her at, the one where she’d previously drank him under the table.

Walking down the street, Dean kept his eyes averted from the people he passed bym mainly because they were all staring at him, though trying to make it look like they weren’t. ‘Y/N’s shop has a reputation,’ Dean thought to himself, ‘and Sam and I have been about the only ones seen coming and going from it with Y/N these past few months... ‘ He was going to have to ask Karen about what the townspeople had been saying about them in Y/N’s absence.

Entering the bar, Dean noted it was happy hour, but there was hardly a soul in the place. Karen had snagged a booth and already ordered him glass of beer and a shot of whiskey. Sitting down, Karen motioned to the shots and they clinked their glasses together and swallowed their whiskey back together.

Karen gasped and coughed, but still smiled. Dean enjoyed the warmness that was spreading out inside him from the liquor.

“There were a lot of eyes on me as I walked over here,” Dean started, picking up his beer and taking a sip of the frothy, cold amber liquid.

Karen fingered her empty shot glass. “After you all left, the last time, my aunt may have gossiped a bit.”

“Oh, and what are they saying?”

Picking up her beer glass and taking a pull of beer, Karen looked thoughtful as she considered her answer. “That you and Sam are only with Y/N for her money, because everyone knows she’s been loaded since her grandfather passed, and I had tried to get you two to away from her and it hadn’t worked out.”

Dean felt the warmth of anger bubble up inside him. He didn’t enjoy the idea of people thinking he was that shallow. Though a corner of his mind betrayed him in that moment and reminded him how nice it had been not to have been running loads of credit card scams for the past few months.

“Well,” Dean started, regaining his composure, “it’s not like you could have corrected them.”

“That’s what I thought. So, sorry, but you’re going to have to be gossip villains while you’re in town.”

Dean sipped his beer and put the glass down. “Okay, so which version do you want?”

“The one where you don’t save me the grizzly details,” Karen replied in a no nonsense voice.

“First off: we found out that Y/N was losing her soul, in fact, at one point she pretty much lost it entirely,” Dean began. He scratched the back of his head and sighed, his mind pulling all the facts together, before telling Karen about all the crazy shit that had happened, from Vegas to Harriet, and how Y/N had her soul back now.

Karen sat there in front of Dean, listening stoically, seeming glad to have the blanks filled in for her. And once Dean finally finished speaking, she reached her left hand out and touched his right hand. “And are you okay, Dean?”

It was the first time anyone had asked him that in weeks. Was he okay? Did he know anymore what it was to be okay? He felt the low burn of the Mark on his arm. He thought about how he felt towards Y/N and the intensity of feelings that had grown towards her.

“I don’t know.”


	4. Cleaning Up

You were in the study with Sam when Dean and Karen got in. The moment you smelled Karen, all petals and long summer nights, your heart began to thump in your chest. Sam was right at your side the moment your breathing kicked up several gears, rubbing your back, telling you to breathe slowly, making soothing sounds.

“Hi,” Karen says as she enters the room, giving you a weak smile.

You look at her and try not to cry. But it’s hard, and before you know what your feet are doing, you’re running to Karen and throwing your arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry, so, sorry… sorry,” you whimper into your former best friend’s neck. Tears escaping, flooding your cheeks. And then you feel Karen’s hands stroke your back.

“Sssssh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Sssssh…” soothes Karen. She makes you look at her. With a sleeve, she wipes away the tears on your face.

And then it clicks. “You… you never took the potion to forget me?”

Karen gives you a huge smile. “No, no I could never forget you.”

And you’re not sure about the next few moments, as your head goes light from all you are feeling there and then - relief, guilt, happiness, sadness, fear, joy - but you drift out of it and find that you’re being cuddled by Dean as Karen and Sam look at something on your laptop. You smell the whiskey and beer on Dean’s breath and tilt your face up to him.

“Feeling better?” Dean asks, looking down on you.

You nod.

“Good.” Dean tilts his head down and kisses you gently on your lips.

“A-hmmmm.” Karen theatrically clears her throat.

Dean remains holding on to you as you turn to look at Karen and Sam.

“I know who your mystery man is,” said Karen, turning the laptop round so that you could see a photo that Sam had retrieved. The file name at the top was just standard gibberish generated by whatever camera had taken the original photo.

The photo had been taken close up and shows a young man, sunglasses on his face, swinging back a bottle of beer. You recognise the face from your death dream, but you still can’t place who he is.

“He,” says Karen, “is your ex-boyfriend. Simon Johnson. He killed your grandfather.”

The name and face still mean nothing to you as your brain fails to conjure any memories. “I- I don’t remember him,” you state.

“I know,” Karen replies.

“Wait-” Sam starts saying.

“Y/N was pretty… shocked after her grandfather’s death. The doctors said she had post-traumatic amnesia,” Karen explains, shifting awkwardly on her feet.

“So, what happened with her soul afterwards must have intensified the amnesia,” Sam mused out loud.

Gently moving out of Dean’s arms, you put a hand through your hair and try to bring your thoughts to a coherent whole. “I still want to cure him.”

There is a low laugh from behind you. You spin to look at Dean, your eyes narrowed. “What, Dean? What?”

Dean licks his lips. “Look, let’s be realistic here for a second, hmmm? You’re talking about curing a werewolf, something that has never been done before.” He takes a step towards you. “Now, while I’ve been happy for you to work away on this little side project of yours: what makes you think you’re going to succeed? There’s no cure.”

You’re trembling as you look at Dean, galled by his sudden lack of disbelief.

“Dean-” Sam begins.

“No, Sam, I want to hear this from her.”

You swallow and square up to Dean, placing your face mere inches from his. You choose your words carefully before you speak.

“Because I have mastered a craft few alive know, revoked death and owe no one for this, and made heaven and hell fear me,” you say in a low voice before catching Dean by surprise and shoving him into a bookcase and storming off out of the study.

“Wait, Y/N!” You hear Sam call after you. “What the hell was that, Dean? Wait, Y/N!”

But you slam the back door behind you and step out into the cooling evening air. For a moment you head to wear you park your bike, before you remember that it’s back at the Bunker. Kicking an empty can out of the way, you run down the street, not caring where your feet are carrying you.

Homes and businesses flash past you in your peripheral vision. Hardly anyone is out on the streets now. Chest heaving, you come to a stop at a playground, the kids and parents gone for the day. You walk over to the swing set and sit down on one of the swings.

Pulling out the postcard from earlier, from one of the many pockets in your combats, you look it over. You know what it means now, but the location is different to the one Crowley gave you several months ago. Simon could have moved on again.

From another pocket you extract your cell and dial Crowley’s number.

It rings.

And rings.

And just when you think it’s going to go to voicemail, you clear the line pick up and you’re greeted by Crowley’s gravelly voice.

“Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering if we could exchange information on that werewolf?” You say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“The werewolf?” Crowley’s voice sounds from behind you and you twist in the swing to see Crowley walking towards you. You hang up your cell as the King of Hell sits down in a swing on your right.

Crowley’s forehead is shiny from a thin sheen of perspiration and his eyes are bloodshot. You can smell the human blood on his breath.

“Yeah… Did you know he was my ex?”

“Yes, but I decided that that piece of information probably didn’t matter, considering what you were planning on doing.”

“Where is he now?”

Crowley grinned. “What might I get in return for this information?”

“Gold?”

“Good enough for me. But it’ll need to be more than one length of pipe.”

“Done,” you answer, sliding off the swing seat and putting your hand to the metal frame that holds it. You steady your breathing and let the Philosopher's Stone channel itself through you. The swing set slowly transforms from its burnished steel to the deep metallic yellows of high carat gold. It’s more than one copper pipe’s worth.

You sit back down on the still rubber seat, holding on to golden chains. “That enough?”

Crowley motions to the postcard in your hand. “He’s still in Texas, Dallas way now. You should be able to catch up with him.”

He stands up from the swing set and you do the same. Crowley puts out his right hand and you shake it with your own. “As always, a pleasure doing business with you.”

You blink and Crowley and the swing set are gone. You are alone. Dean’s words cruelly ring in your ears again.

There’s no sign of Sam or Dean, but just as you think about heading back to your house, your cell starts to buzz. You look at the caller display. It’s Dean. You decline the call and then switch off your phone, taking the battery out and depositing both in one of your many pockets.

A plan is formulating in your head. You start heading back to the house, keeping to the shadows, taking side streets. Anything you can do to avoid Dean and Sam. It doesn’t take you long and soon you’re crouching behind the Impala. You pull a little pouch out of one of your pockets and shove its contents into the lock of the trunk, popping it open.

Quietly, you gather a bunch of the knockout bags, you once made for handling ghouls, out of the trunk and stuff your pockets with them. You’re going to need two more things.

Stealthily, and with a knockout pouch in hand, you creep your way back inside through the rear entrance, heading for where you left your alchemy chest on a work bench. You smell Karen’s scent drifting down from upstairs, but neither Sam or Dean are in the house, for the moment.

You ease your way to the work bench out back and quietly open the chest, putting inside the fresh ingredients you left beside it. Satisfied you’ve got all the alchemy things you could want, you close the chest and set about your next task: finding the guys.

Your heart is hammering as you slip back out of the house, chest under one arm, pouch readied in the opposite hand. Stepping into the side alley that serves the rear, you see Sam and Dean walking towards you. Your muscles tense as they spot you.

“Hey, hey, Y/N!” Sam calls out. “Look, can we talk for a minute?”

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Dean calls.  
You shake your head and then throw the knockout pouch at the guys. Sam tries to catch it, but fails and the pouch opens at their feet, covering them in a hazy purple smoke. Through the cloud, you hear the brothers fall to the ground and you walk forward.

Putting the chest down, you pick through the guy’s pockets until you find the one thing you need. From Sam’s jacket pocket, you pull out the key for the Bunker. Pocketing it in your combats, you pick up your chest once more and step over the prone bodies of the guys and go looking for a car you can “borrow”.

Just before you step out of the side alley, you look back at the unconscious bodies of Sam and Dean, and a sadness drifts into your heart. You fight back tears as you head on off down the road.


	5. Drive Angry

Karen was the one who had discovered them. Once she’d finally roused the two of them, Sam had cringed when he realised that the weight of the Bunker’s key was no longer in his pocket. It was a small relief to hopefully know where Y/N was heading to. But now as they drove the Impala back towards Kansas, Sam didn’t know what to do with the anger that was boiling away inside him. He was driving, almost breaking the speed limit in places, trying to gain on Y/N’s hour head start.

“Why do we have to smell like we just walked out of a bath house whenever she uses that crap?!” Dean complained beside him.

Sam’s nostrils flared. His hands tightened on the wheel.

“It took me weeks to get the stink of this stuff out of my hair the last-”

“Dean: shut it,” Sam growled.

There was silence. Sam continued to drive.

“I-”

“Dean,” Sam said, keeping his driving as steady as he could as his anger towards Dean boiled inside him, “what the hell you were thinking? Dismissing what Y/N has been doing? Could do? If anyone has a hell’s chance of curing a werewolf, it’s Y/N.

“And now, for reasons I cannot even begin to fathom, you pushed her enough to make her run away from us: again. Christ, do you even love her? Because it doesn’t seem like it, Dean.” Sam’s breathing was hard as he finished speaking. He didn’t bother looking at Dean.

“I… I… I…” Dean shifted on the seat beside Sam. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean rubbing at his face. “I was… I didn’t want her…”

And then it clicked for Sam. Had the most petty of reasons caused Dean to chase away the one woman who’d offered herself up to both of them and loved them equally when they deserved it?

“What, you thought she’d cure Simon, or whatever his name is, and what? Get back together with him? Since when do you get jealous?!” Sam cried in exasperation.

“I don’t know Sam! I just… I don’t think... I don’t believe it’ll work.”

Sam didn’t want to reply to that. Sure, he had his doubts, but as he drove on along the road, the sky slowly growing darker, he wanted to believe that Y/N could do the impossible. Because that’s what she was: impossible.

*

When the Impala, almost a day later, pulled up outside the Bunker, with Dean behind the wheel, Sam didn’t wait for Dean to turn off the ignition as he scrambled out of the car to check if Y/N was there. But the door wouldn’t budge. And he doubted that she’d locked herself up inside.

“Shit,” Sam muttered to himself and then he looked down at the ground and saw a brown envelope weighted by a rock. Dean was walking towards him as he bent down and picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a note from Y/N, he recognised her handwriting. The note simply read:

**Gone to Dallas. Call me when you get there x**

Sam remembered the postcard back at the store and it made sense. A part of him relaxed, reading the note over again. She still wanted him to follow her, Dean too he supposed. ‘Must have cooled off while driving here,’ Sam thought to himself.

He put the note in his jacket pocket. It was like a worry he’d been trying not to think about just unknotted itself from him and dropped away, leaving Sam to relax a little as he headed back to the Impala and got in, ready to drive. ‘She wants me,’ he thought. He ignored Dean’s cries as his brother jogged back to the car and got in beside him.

“Where are we going?!”

“Dallas,” was Sam’s simple reply.

*

The stars were slowly erased by light pollution. Was it the longest drive of his life? Sam wasn’t sure as Dean now steered the Impala through the outskirts of Dallas. The eight hours or so in the car had seemed to drag on and on, even when he finally put some tunes on. He pulled out his cell and dialed Y/N’s number as she’d asked. He’d originally given up phoning her about an hour after leaving Karen.

Sam felt nervous as he waited for the call to be picked up. The call connected.

“Sam?” Asked Y/N.

“It’s me. We’re in Dallas now. Where are you?”

Sam listened intently as Y/N told them about the hotel she’d booked a room for them at.

“And can you bring some fresh pig’s blood?” Y/N asked.

“Uh, sure.”

“Love you, Sam,” Y/N said as she finished giving him directions.

“Love you too, Y/N,” Sam said softly and waited for Y/N to hang up. When the line went dead, Sam put his cell away and breathed deeply.

“She okay?” Dean asked, his voice edged with genuine concern.

“She sounded fine. She wants us to pick up some fresh pig’s blood before we head to the hotel.”

“Oh… wait, a hotel?”

“Honeymoon suite too…” Sam let his voice trail off.

He could hear Dean audibly swallow beside him as his brother kept his attention on the road. “Suppose we better find some pig’s blood…”

*

When they finally parked in the hotel’s basement lot, pig’s blood bagged up and in his hands, Sam felt butterflies in his stomach. Dean carried their duffels and they headed to reception, to be directed to their room.

Inside the reception, the decor was decidedly expensive and Sam felt very underdressed as they were greeted by a member of staff.

“Ah, yes, she’s been expecting you. This way,” the lead concierge had said, leading them to an elevator, not offering to help Dean with the bags at all.

Once they were on the top floor, the concierge swiftly led them down a corridor before arriving at the door to the honeymoon suite and knocking. Sam heard Y/N’s footsteps and tensed when she opened the door. She was dressed in a silk dressing gown and nothing else.

“Thank you, Max,” Y/N said to the concierge as she handed over a small wad of bills. Max dipped his head and ambled back towards the elevator.

Before Sam or Dean could say anything, Y/N eyed the paper bag and whispered, “Is that the blood?”

Sam nodded and wordlessly gave it to Y/N. She walked back into the room, leaving Dean and Sam to make their own way in. Closing the door behind them, Sam watched as Y/N tipped something into the now open jar of pig’s blood, the cased-up werewolf’s paw on a nearby dresser, and then started drinking it down. The sight of Y/N gulping down a jar of pig’s blood was still not something he could get use to.

Especially when some of it dribbled down her chin and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Sam could hear Dean shifting around the suite, checking things out, but Sam couldn’t stop watching Y/N. With the blood done, she walked over to a pair of french doors and opened them up, stepping onto a balcony.

Sam followed and stared at the lights of Dallas that surrounded them as he stood beside Y/N. She was taking in huge breaths of air through her nostrils. Filtering through the city’s various scents.

“Do you have any idea how gross you look when you drink blood?” Sam asked, trying to break the silence that surrounded them.

“How gross?” Y/N asked, not taking her eyes off of the city.

“Pretty gross,” Sam replied. Y/N looked up at Sam and gave him a small smile.

“You’re wondering why I changed my mind after running off like that, aren’t you?” Y/N said quietly.

“Kinda.”

Y/N leaned against Sam and he put an arm around her. “Soulless me would have run off here without thinking about backup, determined to succeed any old way… But once I went back to the Bunker for what I needed and some of my things… I went through our rooms and…”

“And you knew,” Sam finished for her. ‘Knew that you stilled loved us and needed us,’ he thought to himself.

“Yeah.”

Dean bumbled on to the balcony. “Hey, Y/N, I’m-”

Sam watched as Y/N turned to face his brother. “I know you’re sorry. I can, um, smell how sorry you are.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Seriously, you can? No wait, let me actually say it: Y/N, I’m sorry for what I said.”

Y/N took Sam’s left hand and then took Dean’s right hand and squeezed them both as tight as she could.


	6. Kiss And Make Up

Everyone was too tired to go tracking down werewolves. No one had slept properly for days. Y/N had claimed to have “their” scent now, though, so tracking would be easy enough. Of course the information that there was a pack operating in the city hadn’t been easy to take on board, but made it more important that everyone was well rested.

Fully dressed, Dean only dozed lightly, on the couch he’d chosen to exile himself to inside the honeymoon suite, uneasy at the idea of knowing there were werewolves roaming the streets outside. He was even more uneasy at how easily Y/N had chosen to handle him. He didn’t feel forgiven-

In a corner of the suite, Dean heard the bed shift and the patter of light feet. And then Y/N plopped herself down, naked, on the persian carpet beside the couch, her back to him. Y/N was a dark form, highlighted from the artificial glow of Dallas’s skyline.

Dean waited. Waited for Y/N to say anything. Eventually he reached his left hand out and touched her bare left shoulder. She tensed under his touch.

“Y/N?” Dean whispered.

Y/N didn’t answer him at first. But finally, she whispered, “Sorry for pushing you into that bookcase.”

“It’s fine.”

“How’s Karen?”

“Bit shaken, but you’ll be relieved to know that she punched me in the face.”

The silence grew between them again.

Y/N rested a hand on Dean’s. “I’m scared.”

“Why?” Dean linked his fingers with Y/N’s.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“You seemed pretty confident that it would work.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“Then Sam and I do what we always do: bring out the silver blades and bullets and ride the rodeo.”

The silence grew between them once more. Dean wondered what Y/N was thinking. Suddenly, she stood up, but continued to grip his hand. She pulled gently at him. Dean got off of the couch and allowed himself to be led to the bedroom and the huge bed that dominated the suite. Sam was asleep on one side, naked under the sheets.

“Y/N…” Dean whispered, but she placed a finger on his lips to hush him and then began to undress him. Slowly. Easing him carefully out of his clothes. Gently rubbing up against him as she pulled his shirts over his head, unzipped his jeans and helped him out of them and his boxers. He knew what was coming and he craved the closeness.

Dean’s breath hitched, as Y/N held herself against him, her nipples already hard as they pressed into his torso. With her right hand she caressed his face and pulled his lips down for a kiss. Then she stepped away from him and climbed into the bed, but keeping the sheets pulled back for him.

Sam stirred as Y/N laid down in the bed, her back to him, and Sam rolled over, putting an arm possessively under Y/N’s right arm, placing a massive hand on her right breast. In the glow of the Dallas night skyline, Dean’s eyes roved over the form of Y/N, the sheets pulled up only to her hips, and then he climbed into bed beside her, facing her.

Sliding in right up to her, Dean ignored Sam’s hand as he leaned in and sought out Y/N’s mouth with his own, his left hand stroking her right thigh. Teasing Y/N’s mouth open, Dean flicked his tongue inside and greedily sought each kiss, deepening it each time. It didn’t take much before he was hard and desperately pressing himself up Y/N, seeking friction.

And as their tongues chased each other, Y/N ground back into Sam. And then Y/N’s right hand found Dean’s dripping cock. Expertly, Y/N gripped Dean tight and began to move her hand up and down, slicking him with his own pre-cum, while still grinding back into Sam. Her movements were slow, precise.

Carefully, Dean eased his hand away from Y/N’s hip and slid it between her legs, and found that she was already swimming.

Dean pulled away from their kissed. “Y/N…” Dean moaned in a low, husky voice, smothered in need.

Y/N nodded, and then twisted her head to kiss Sam, and wake him up enough so that he knew what was happening. Dean watched Sam blearily open his eyes and look at the two of them, getting the message. Sam rolled onto his back, keeping his legs together. Y/N let go of Dean’s dick, so that she could saddle Sam’s thighs, while going on all fours and raising her hips in the air. Climbing behind Y/N, Dean waited for her to get Sam’s already hard cock in her mouth, hands gripped around it. It didn’t take her long to find a rhythm.

Carefully gripping onto Y/N’s hips, Dean slowly lowered himself inside of Y/N, his eyes rolling back as he let her wetness and heat surround him. And then he began to thrust, pumping gently, keeping in rhythm with Y/N’s head bops. He watched her obreros tattoo stretch and ripple in front of him.

“God, Y/N,” Sam moaned, his voice thick with lust.

Dean looked away from Y/N for a moment and looked at his brother. Sam was staring back at him right then, with his “don’t-fuck-this-up” face. And then Y/N came up for air, her head blocking Sam’s stare. Her breathing was quick.

Using Y/N’s break, Dean suddenly sped up, shifting himself downwards a touch more, getting his cock to hit Y/N’s sweetspot.

“Nnnnnh!” Y/N whimpered out loud, pushing herself towards Dean, her face grazing the side of Sam’s wet cock.

And then Dean felt Y/N collapse in on herself, as her first orgasm of that night worked its way through her body. The way her back arched as she came brought Dean close, but he still wanted more.

Sam held a hand up. “Can… we… just… shift… a moment?,” he asked breathlessly. Sliding out of Y/N, Dean moved to one side, as Sam scrambled out from under her and sat in an armchair beside the bed, jerking himself off furiously.

Crawling into the centre of the bed, Y/N raised her ass up in the air and Dean licked his lips before climbing behind her and easing himself back inside. As he started pumping into Y/N again, even harder than before, pushing himself in almost completely, Dean felt a thrill of excitement as he caught his brother looking at the two of them.

And suddenly, Y/N was almost kneeling, and Dean grabbed onto her, pulling her back slightly as she shuddered around him, her breaths few and far between as she came again.

“MMmmmmmmnnnnggghhh!” Y/N cried and it was enough to send Dean spilling himself into her.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” Dean shouted.

“Sa-m?” Y/N called out breathlessly.

Pulling out, Dean quickly ducked out of the way as Sam ambled back over to the bed and rolled Y/N over. Grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-bar in the next room, Dean watched through open doors as his younger brother greedily devoured Y/N, causing her to cry out in pleasure once more before Sam finally came inside of her.

Dean couldn’t believe the noises Sam made as he reached his release. And for once, Dean prayed no one had heard them.


	7. Vital

You are on foot, Sam and Dean flanking you, as you walk through the hustle and bustle of downtown Dallas. The pig’s blood concoction is still in your system, sending your olfactory sense into hyperdrive. You can smell the lycanthropes, but it takes a lot of your mental concentration to ignore everything else that heads into your nose… and thoughts.

“Woah!” Sam yells, grabbing your arm as you almost walk out into traffic. A taxi sails past. You almost drop the bag on your other shoulder, stuffed with some of the cure and a few other tools of your trade. Your necklace takes a moment to stop swinging.

“I would have been fine…” you mutter to yourself.

“Sure, but we’re in no position to deal with not explaining you while stopping a taxi driver and his fare from suffering heart attacks,” Sam whispers back.

But you’re sure that you’re getting close. Their scent is intensifying, and as you move further away from the hub-hub and into a residential area, you stop.

You look up at the block of tan rendered apartments at the end of the street and point. “They’re in there.”

“You sure?” Dean asks.

Taking in a huge breath of air through your nose, you filter through the smells that are flowing around you. Past Sam and Dean’s unique scents; past the sweet tang of someone trying to discretely smoke dope from the top floor of a building two blocks over; past the unpleasant odour of a freshly filled diaper in a different block of apartments and so on. You do this until you seize the current of not quite “wet dog” emanating out from an open window on the top floor of the apartment block.

“Positive.” You point to the open window, waiting for Sam and Dean to follow your gaze. “Up there.”

The guys look at each other and take the lead, protectively placing you behind them.

*

Reaching the top floor, you can feel your heart thundering away in your chest. The werewolves may know you’re already here, but what’s panicking you more is the idea that you’re so close. So close to doing what your grandfather couldn’t do. But alongside this is a complete lack of emotion towards the significance of who it is that you will be curing. Simon is still just a name Karen gave you and a face pulled out of a memory remembered in death.

Sam motions to ask which apartment and you point to one on his left. You stay back as Sam and Dean swarm towards it, guns out and you clutch the silver dagger you were given just in case.

And as Sam breaks the door down, wood splintering everywhere, that’s when everything begins to unfold. At first you all go into the apartment, with Sam and Dean pointing their guns in front and then training them on the four people/werewolves, who were asleep in the lounge mere moments before. You recognise Simon’s face among that crowd, but then you smell the transformed werewolf creeping up behind you…

The silver blade held in your right hand arcs through the air as you spin and stab it into the male werewolf’s neck just as it bites you on your left shoulder. You drop to the floor in pain, the werewolf drops to the floor dead. As you fight the quickly dissipating pain in your shoulder, you’re dimly aware of shots being fired and bodies rushing past you.

Distantly, you hear Dean’s voice. “Where do you think you’re going?” And then you hear someone being pistol whipped and collapsing elsewhere in the apartment.

Sam is kneeling beside you, but you ignore him as you thrust your bag at Sam. You can see the werewolf trembling in anger by Dean’s feet and it’s not Simon. But you need to be sure.

“Get him to smoke the pink crystals,” you say thickly, your mouth dry. Your stomach is starting to churn.

“Y/N, were you bit?!” Sam cries, his voice desperate.

But before you can answer him, you scramble up from the floor and swiftly navigate your way to the bathroom and the toilet herein.

You vomit and then pass out.

*

“Y/N?” You hear Sam’s voice call. Rising up out of a deep, deep sleep, you cling on to Sam’s voice, as he repeats your name again and again.

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re back in the honeymoon suite at the hotel, in bed. You ease yourself up on the pillows behind you and a flannel falls from your forehead. You put a hand up to your face and feel how hot you are, the fever making your impossibly warm. Sam is sat beside you, on the edge of the bed.

“We could probably cook eggs off of you,” Dean calls from an armchair near the doorway.

Out of habit, your right hand snakes down to your long, silver necklace and the nest that holds the Philosopher’s Stone and begins to twirl it between your fingers.

“How long was I out?” You ask Sam.

“You’ve been in and out of it for about three and a half a days,” Sam replies. “Hey, the chain on that is pure silver, right?”

You look down at your necklace and the silver nest. “Everything but the stone.”

Sam exchanges a look with Dean. Dean gets up from his chair and stands beside the bed. “You were bitten, weren’t you?”

It takes a moment, but then you recall what happened back in the apartment. “Yes.”

“I don’t think she’s going to turn, Dean,” Sam says in a low voice.

You’re about to say something else, but then you notice the metallic tang in your mouth. “Why does my mouth taste of blood?”

Sam and Dean exchange another glance. Sam clears his throat. “You were vomiting blood and vital organs at one point.”

You lay back against the pillows behind you. “Like my body was purging itself after the bite?”

“That’s what I figured,” Sam replies.

You nod and feel like you’ve dodged a bullet. Then you remember the werewolf that Dean had cornered. “Did the cure work? Y’know, on that werewolf?”

The guys remain silent.

“Well, did it?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “It did-”

“Brilliant?! Where is he?”

Sam grimaces before replying, “He was mauled to death by Simon, when he went to find him and the others.”

“When we tried to help him, Simon’s pals went for us and it was us or them,” says Dean, “And we chose us.”

“Did you kill Simon?”

“He ran off, we tried tracking him, but without you it was hard and Dean lost him not long after. He...” Sam replies, stroking your hand.

Dean shifts on his feet and picks up from Sam. “Y/N, I don’t think he wants to be cured, he knew full well that we’d cured one of them and...” Dean trails off. And you know the truth in his words.

You close your eyes and you see your grandfather’s bloodied body back in the store. Karen towering over you, the beast fleeing the scene. You take a deep breath.

“Well,” you say, opening your eyes and looking at Sam and Dean, fixing them with your winning smile, your voice dripping with menace, “if he won’t take his medicine, then I say we take him to the rodeo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this part. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. In the meantime, feel free to leave comments and kudos and don't forget that you can always check in with me at [Dreams from the Bunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).


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